


Subroutine

by DataSupremacy



Series: Tumblr Requests: NSFW [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 07:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DataSupremacy/pseuds/DataSupremacy
Summary: An incident while on duty gives Data an opportunity to explore a previously untapped subroutine.
Relationships: Data (Star Trek)/Reader
Series: Tumblr Requests: NSFW [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206905
Kudos: 17





	Subroutine

☆☆☆

“Isn’t this a little… much?”

Your lips barely move as you breathe out the words in one solemn exhale but you still tense in anticipation, expecting one of the surrounding superior officers to catch wind of your complaint and shoot you a look. No one does, of course. Your words are missed by everyone except Data, whose arm you’re currently using as a lifeline to avoid getting swept away by the impatient crowd.

“The Kurrils are known for their appreciation of exterior beauty and aesthetic,” he murmurs back to you, evidently unbothered.

You envy that. You can’t even begin to guess how many members of Starfleet have shown up for this “celebration” of the finalized treaty between the Federation and the Kurrils, but you know it’s more than enough to make you feel as though all the air is gone from the room. There are so many bodies pressing up against you, anxious to see the grand hall at the end of this long, uncomfortable walk that you feel as though the top layer of your skin has been rubbed away with sandpaper, leaving you hurting and exposed and TOO sensitive to every inadvertent touch.

It’s maddening.

If it weren’t for Data’s steadying hand and soothing presence, you would have screamed or bolted by now.

“Exterior beauty is one thing… but don’t you miss when we celebrated a successful mission with drinks in Ten Forward?” You ask, because talking is the only distraction left for you. “The dress code was much less harsh.”

“I do not understand. Is your attire uncomfortable?”

Not in the strictest sense of the word. The dress is stunning; the silk drapes over your body like liquid moonlight, weightless and shimmering in silver. But you’re unaccustomed to wearing something like this.

“I would have preferred my uniform,” you admit, even as you cast your gaze appreciatively to him, dressed up in a similar fabric. “Though you look very handsome.”

“I find that you are especially aesthetically pleasing tonight, as well,” Data’s eyes brighten as he prepares to launch into a stream of compliments that he’d likely been practicing since the night before. “The colour of the gown enhances your -”

“Oh!” You interrupt him with a gasp and flinch when a hand that is NOT Data’s suddenly slides from the small of your back to the curve of your bottom. “Hey!”

Your uncertain attempt to get away from the strange touch sends you colliding into Data, who immediately wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you securely behind him as he turns around to face the groper.

“That is extremely rude behaviour,” he scolds, his expression gone icy with the sudden lack of delight that had been in his eyes before.

The man in question just grins. “I’m sorry, the dress just looked so soft. I was curious if it felt as good as it looks.”

“You should learn to curb such impulses of curiosity. It will not serve you to continue.”

Anyone else might have called Data’s tone bland and unconcerned… but not you. You know him better than most can hope to and you can see the way that anger is simmering beneath the veneer of calm.

But even if his anger is hard to sense, the commotion this confrontation is causing certainly isn’t. You’re hyper aware of the many pairs of eyes that are staring, now, and you tug at his hand.

“Data…”

“Is everything alright?”

You recognize that voice and breathe a stuttering sigh of relief as Riker comes into the view, pushing his way back through the crowd to assess the situation.

“Commander,” Data’s gaze flicks from the smarmy face of the first man to Riker. “I was expressing my disapproval of this man’s actions toward (Y/N). He was overly familiar with his physical gestures.”

Riker turns his attention to you know and you can feel your face burning with a blush as you have to say, “He, um, felt me up sir.”

“An honest mistake, I assure you!” some of the smarm disappeared from the strangers face when he seemed to realize that Riker was an officer of considerable rank. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, I don’t believe it will. Who do you report to? I think I’d like to have a talk with whichever commanding officer allows his crew to behave like this.”

You wish you could feel satisfaction in the way that the man’s face drains of colour, but you’re too mortified. You tug on Data’s hand again, face still hot with humiliation.

“Data, let’s just -”

Your voice breaks and you swear, internally, as tears prick at your eyes. You blink furiously, willing yourself not to cry, and the vulnerability in your expression is enough for Data.

“Commander,” he says, tilting his head toward Riker in acquiesce to his ability to handle the situation solo, and then pulls you against him, leading you through the crowd and away from the grand hall that you’re all supposed to be filing into without another word.

***

Your first lung full of cool, fresh air is a godsend. The night air is refreshingly crisp and cools your heated skin. Data ushers you around the building and deeper into the shadows away from the opulence until the voices from the crowd are barely audible and it’s just the two of you, standing in the darkness of unfamiliar surroundings.

“Is this a sufficient amount of distance from the perpetrator?” Data asks, softly, his fingers still twined from yours.

“I guess it would be too much to ask to go back to the Enterprise,” you joke, weakly, lifting a hand to stop him before he can offer to do just that. “This is fine, Data. Really. I’ll be ok. I just -”

Need a second.

That’s what you meant to say. You were supposed to tell him that you were going to pull yourself together. But, to your horror, you sob instead. The stress of the evening is hitting you hard and you frantically try to dry your eyes without smudging the artful eye makeup that Deanna had done for you.

“You are crying,” Data says, eyes fixated on you. “I must point out that such an emotional response indicates ongoing distress.”

“I’ll be fine,” you amend, weakly. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

“In that case, would you please inform me how to enable you to become the appropriate level of whelmed?”

You laugh through the hot tears that just don’t seem to want to cease, “Could you just hold me?”

Data holds his arms out, perfectly perpendicular and expectant of your ability to fill the empty space between them and you could laugh again if you weren’t so busy throwing yourself at him. You hide your face against his chest while he stands still and silent. Just holding you, as requested.

Finally, when the silence stretches on past what you can bear, you peek up at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“In that particular moment, I was analyzing the flora and fauna that is detectable from our position, speculating what Spot may be doing in my absence, reviewing the steps necessary to submit a formal complaint against a Starfleet officer for sexual misconduct, calculating the rate of your heart to surmise your enduring emotional state, and beginning to write the first stanza of my next poem.”

It’s such a… Data response that you can’t help but smile up at him.

“A new poem, huh? Can I hear?”

“When it is finished,” Data says, not put off by your pitiful attempt to distract him. He still staring keenly at you. “Are you all right?”

“Getting there,” you promise, suddenly shy under his gaze. You and Data have been involved for months now, but you think this must be the first time that you’ve ever really cried in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

Confusion makes his forehead crease. “You have done nothing wrong.”

“I wouldn’t normally panic like this. It was just… the crowd, the noise, and then that guy all at once. I would have handled myself better if I wasn’t already so…”

You trail off, just gesturing to yourself.

“Your emotional response was appropriate for the circumstances,” Data assures you, immediately. But then he hesitates, gaze shifting away from you.

“Data?”

“May I make a confession of a personal nature?”

“Of course.”

You stand silently, waiting patiently for him to put his thoughts into words. It doesn’t take long.

“I found myself experiencing extreme displeasure when I realized that someone else had touched you. My jealousy subroutine has largely remained dormant until that moment and upon its activation, I found myself wishing to seclude you from everyone but myself. I may have subconsciously acted on that desire when I brought you out here. It was not wholly for your comfort and I must apologize for this display of selfishness.”

Feeling oddly touched, you rest the palm of your hand against his chest where his heart should have been, feeling his artificial pulse and taking some comfort from its rhythm.

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” you assure him. “That’s very normal. Human, even. Jealousy is an appropriate reaction in a situation like that. Or at least a normal one.”

“I did not enjoy that he touched you,” Data’s hands press more firmly against the small of your back. “I do not want anyone but myself to do so.”

“That makes two of us.”

You can still feel tension in your legs as if you’re ready to spring away from another unwanted advance from some invisible spectator infringing on your moment with Data. This isn’t how the night should have gone – you should be inside, smiling as you listen to Data utilize his small talk program with anyone in his orbit and maybe even caving when he asks you to dance and praying that he keeps you from making a fool of yourself.

You should be having fun in spite of yourself, not outside with still drying tears on your face. How could one asshole ruin everything so spectacularly?

“Data?”

“Yes?”

“…Kiss me?”

You only know one way to reclaim this disaster of an evening and it starts when Data obliges your request. He’s gentle and sweet… and it leaves you longing. Wanting for more.

You pull back, voice carefully composed. “No. Not like that. I don’t want you to be gentle. I want…”

How can you explain? He’s staring, waiting patiently for some kind of direction.

“…You know how you felt when your jealousy subroutine activated? I want you to kiss me with that.”

You don’t have time to wonder if that makes any sense. There’s a shift in his expression, something that LOOKS like satisfaction, and then he’s kissing you again. His mouth has a hardness to it, this time, something determined and demanding. It jumpstarts your pulse again, but this time it’s not fear that suffuses your body.

You part your lips in a sigh of relief and Data doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss with lingering, maddening deliberation as he leaves no part of you unexplored.

You melt, certain that you’d fall bonelessly to the ground if it wasn’t for his grip on you. His clever tongue draws a whimper from your throat and it’s not until the need to breathe surpasses your need to surrender to the hot, molten feeling pooling in your abdomen. You break away, gasping.

But he doesn’t stop. He moves his mouth to your jaw, peppering your skin with gentle kisses; a trail of affection that leads down your throat, over your collarbone, and to the last patch of exposed skin by the neckline of your outfit.

And when he starts to work his way back up, his voice is coolly matter-of-fact, “He should not have touched you. You are mine.”

He says it like it’s a fact. A simple, undisputed truth. As obvious as the polarization of this planet or any of the many other millions of tidbits that he carries in his head.

And your knees go weak.

“Data,” you whisper his name because your throat is too tight with longing to speak any louder. “Touch me?”

He doesn’t answer you, just brushes his lips against the soft, exposed skin of your throat. The only indication that he heard your request is the way that he pushes you until your back is pressed against the smooth stone of some decorative statue. That’s when he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his hips so that he can rock himself against you in sure, measured movements.

“I do not believe that we can engage in full physical intimacy here,” Data says, supporting you with one arm around your waist while his free hand grips the skirt of your dress and bunches it up, lifting it until the only barrier between him and you are his trousers and the thin fabric of your underwear. “However, I have calculated the amount of friction required to ensure that you achieve orgasm in our previous engagements and would like to bring you sexual gratification if you have no objection?”

You laugh.

It’s all you can ever do when he talks like this. It’s indescribably hot, listening him talk so candidly about his intentions. No flowery language, just… him.

“No. No objections here. Just kiss me. Please? I don’t want to think. Just want to feel you.”

Your own eloquence might leave a lot to be desired, but it doesn’t matter when he kisses you again. His hips rock up against yours and his tongue slips against yours in an intimate mimicry of the way his body moves against yours. Heat suffuses through your entire body again, but this time its the soft burn of desire instead of harsh humiliation. He has you panting in minutes, stimulated beyond belief, but still craving more.

“Data, Data, Data!” you chant against his mouth, hands gripping his shoulders tightly enough that they’d leave bruises on a different man. “I need - Data, oh god, please?”

“You have not articulated a request, my love,” he purrs the pet name into your ear. “You must tell me what you want so that I can attempt to accommodate you.”

This isn’t the first time he’s left you beyond words. He’s teasing, you realize. And somehow that makes it hotter.

“Data, you know what I want!”

“I can form a hypothesis,” he says, rolling his hips up harder against yours. “But a great deal of my internal resources are focused on you in this particular moment.”

Has he always been capable of being such a damned tyrant?

“I want to cum,” you growl, frustrated with his feigned innocence.

You brace yourself for more of the torment that he seems content inflicting on you only to gasp when he suddenly lifts you up higher, your back still pressed against the stone of this statue, but your legs over his shoulders now. Your stomach flips as adrenaline kicks in, the fear of falling flashing through you… but you quash that feeling as soon as it appears. Data wouldn’t ever let you get hurt.

He would, however, press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh before showing you just how clever his tongue can be.

You bite your tongue against a scream of pure ecstasy, hard enough to taste blood, and squeeze your eyes shut. You’re completely helpless against this onslaught of pleasure, only broken whimpers and fragments of sounds that might be his name getting past your lips.

You see bursts of colours behind your eyelids when you climax and the little aftershocks that spark through you when he tastes the evidence of his hard work could be the end of you.

But at least you’d die happy…

***

You can’t stand on your own when he sets you down onto your feet, but he doesn’t seem to mind helping you keep upright, his arm held out to you in the same gallant gesture that it had been when you’d first entered the building with him.

“Would you like to return to the Enterprise?” Data asks, looking significantly less wrecked than you must.

“Yeah. I’m not sure I can go in there like… this,” you smile ruefully. “It might blow our cover as upstanding officers. But, you can go in. Mingle. I know you like to.”

“There will be future opportunities,” Data retrieves his comm badge and taps it. “Data to Enterprise. Two to transport directly to my quarters.”

“Aye, sir. Stand by for transport.”

“Your quarters?” You ask, eyebrows raised.

Data meets your gaze steadily. “The gala will continue for several hours. We will not be missed. It is a unique opportunity.”

Jealousy subroutines.

Who knew what an aphrodisiac those would be?

“Energize.”


End file.
